


Without Leave

by RhineGold



Series: Shore Leave [2]
Category: Stargate Universe
Genre: Bondage, Daddy Kink, Dark!Young, Extremely Dubious Consent, M/M, Strangulation, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-20
Updated: 2014-07-20
Packaged: 2018-02-09 14:34:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1986579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RhineGold/pseuds/RhineGold
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This story is an AU of the Shore Leave verse, one where there were no rocks at the bottom of that lake, and by the time Destiny came back around, things had broken into very different pieces.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Command Chair

**Author's Note:**

> This is old writing I am forcing myself to post. Please read Shore Leave first because A) it is better and B) it will make more sense. Keep in mind this is an AU where basically Young stayed evil the whole time (and possibly forever?)
> 
> I dedicate this story to Yoyi, who is, perhaps, Shore Leave's biggest fan?

The whining sound, barely noticeable if not for the way his hand hocked up high on that long throat, alerted him to the fact that Rush was once again awake. He stretched his thigh, shifting the slighter man where he perched on his lap, shifting more flesh than was visible, alerting the other man to just how far things had progressed while he’d been unconscious.

Rush stiffened, fingers clawing at the arm rests to either side of them. What he could see of the man’s face was partially obscured by the play of FTL light across those stark features, but Rush’s eyes looked glassy and his jaw ground hard, tightening painfully as he struggled to swallow down air.

He let him breathe, slackening the hand still wrapped around his throat. In a teasingly soothing gesture, he let the other hand rub gentle circles over the man’s stomach, rucking up his shirt a bit more in the process.

With his first experimental thrust, the keening sound returned, high and noisy, echoing in the bridge’s inward acoustics, ringing pleasantly and harshly in their ears. Young let his hand skip upwards, clapping it hard over his mouth, yanking his head back until he forced the man to arch his back painfully. When their skulls connected, he took the opportunity to scrape tongue and teeth over one ear, his breath hot and humid against Rush’s fluttering hair.

"Shhh…," he admonished gently, rolling his hips to emphasize the other man’s helplessness one more time. Rush groaned, wet and shuddering, against his palm, struggling against the painfulness of trying to keep himself lifted away and the humiliation of pressing back against the man buried to the hilt inside of him.

Finally, the struggle ended and Rush collapsed back against him with a high, thin sob. Young rewarded him by relaxing the grip on his face slightly, smoothing his thumb over Rush’s chin in an almost fond petting. “Good boy,” he murmured, voice warm and pleased.

He could feel the conflict in the other man, painted clearly in the way his hands tensed, long thin fingers scabbering over the metal, as he warred between outrage and actual gratitude. He’d come to realize during all of this how starved Rush was, both for touch and for tenderness. Rush wanted nothing more than to be praised, to be told he’d done well. It had been an honest pleasure to discover how the man could melt under the right words in the right tone of voice. There was still a pesky streak in the man, of defiance, of shame, that he slowly worked on tempering and breaking. Soon, he thought, things might be perfect between them, and he was more than willing to get his hands dirty if it meant good results in the long-run. Their perfect storm of Desire-to-be-a-Good-Father and Daddy Issues could be the recipe for something truly delicious.

And so he was gentle in the way he handled him now, cupping his chin and thumbing away the stray tears that still leaked down his face every once in a while. And Rush had not once let go of the command chair’s armrests, not even when he’d been strangled into to brief unconsciousness, despite the fact that he hadn’t been tied down this time.

Such progress, in such a short time.

He moaned as Young’s other hand crept downward, finally cupping over the bulge there in his jeans. “Oh…,” Young murmured, the attempt at sounding surprised spoiled by the amusement in his tone. “What’s this?”

"Please…" Rush choked out, knowing it was expected of him, but also out of an undeniable sense of urgency. "…Please, just…"

“‘Please’ what?” He said, voice firming into a hint of sharpness.

"…Sir!" Rush added hastily, burrowing further back against him in supplication and concern. "Please, sir…"

He conceded the point, unwilling to let a single lapse spoil his good mood, and he nuzzled the soft hair covering the other man’s throat to show he wasn’t angry. “Good boy.” He opened the man’s belt easily, though the fly gave him more trouble with the way Rush strained helplessly against it. “Shhh…” He warned, feeling the way Rush’s shoulders trembled, curtailing the burgeoning desire to disobey the order to keep his hands still. “I got it,” And he did, finally thumbing the button free, allowing him to slide the zipper down. He never knew what had happened to Rush’s underwear, and he didn’t ask, content to take advantage of the fact and the access it gave him.

The hand returned to Rush’s mouth in just enough time to smother the rattling cry he gave when Young’s fist clenched tight over his swollen length. Young’s own erection had partially flagged due to friction and latency over the past few minutes, but it began to return full force in the wake of Rush’s small cries and shrill whimpers, along with the oh-so-helpful way he writhed his hips in Young’s lap. He took his time, twisting and toying with the foreskin until he had exposed the glistening head. Rush bowed forward now, pushing forward on his forearms until he had folded down as though to press his forehead to his knees. Young went with him enough to keep his hand firmly over his mouth, knowing well how vocal Rush could be at times. The position helped to drive Rush’s hips hard against Young’s lap, and he took advantage of the pose to begin a series of slow, shallow thrusts.

The cries against his palm rose and crested in intensity, and hot, thick tears rolled over his palm as Rush shuddered and quaked, caught firmly on all sides by Young’s arms and hands and more. Finally, he let his hand slip away from Rush’s length, wringing a long, mournful moan of protest. Using his hand to yank him flush with his chest, he settled back into the chair, spreading his legs to the fullest extent the seat would allow. Pulling his head back again until he could teeth on his ear, he said quietly, but firmly, “I want you to lift your hands up now, and use one to cover your mouth, and one to hold yourself. You can hold yourself, but don’t squeeze, and don’t pull. I just want you to have something to move against, understand? And keep yourself quiet. We don’t want anyone… interrupting, do we?”

Rush nodded fervently, as much as the grip on his face would allow. When Young let him go, he did exactly as ordered, cupping his right hand over his own mouth and taking himself in his left. Young wondered if it was because he didn’t trust his dominant hand not to clench down immediately. With his own hands now free, he turned his attentions to wrapping round those soft, curved hips, cupping and lifting Rush until he’d raised him a scant inch or so off of the flesh splitting into him. Instead of letting Rush fall, he instead guided him back down again, making the resulting thrust gentle and low-impact. Rush sobbed, the sound muffled, but still lovely to hear. He began a series of these kinds of thrusts, fully returning his own erection, watching over the man’s shoulder as Rush’s fingers trembled and spasmed around his own in a desperate attempt to provide friction without simply fucking himself into his own palm. “Such a good boy,” He whispered, rewarding him with a harder, sharper thrust, angled deep and high, making Rush yelp, a high sound that cracked higher a rake of pointed pleasure burst through him. “Jesus, you’re so fucking tight,” He added, pumping his hips up hard into the other man. “You love this, don’t you? You say you don’t, but I can see it in every inch of you…” Rush sobbed harder, shaking his head, but Young just laughed and moved oh-so-shallow, only to have the smaller man slam his own hips back desperately in counterpoint. “Oh, yeah… You love it… And that’s really good, you know that? You’re so good like this… So sweet and good…”

Unable to keep up the gentle, teasing pace, he began in earnest, lifting Rush higher and letting him drop faster, pumping harder and harder into him. Finally, unable to wait any longer, he firmed his arm around Rush’s waist, holding him steady with a palm against his sternum, and then struggled up to his feet.

Half-carrying, half-shoving him, he threw Rush down across the nearest console, grateful it had been powered down and locked by the person who’d used it last. Rush yelped, hands flying up to catch himself as he fell hard due to his jeans tangling round his knees. Young ignored this, catching him by the leg and kicking at Rush’s shoe until it came free. Now that he could, he practically ripped the jeans free of that leg, lifting it high and hard, pressing it against the console as well, making Rush scream, a violent, unfettered sound that spoke more of actual panic than of sexual pleasure. He paused for a moment, raking aside that soft, long hair to press a soothing kiss against the spot where his skull met his neck. “Shhhhh, Rush… Rush… I got you, I got you… I’m not going to hurt you,” He tried to gentle his voice, despite the harshness of his own breathing. “I’m not going to hurt you,” He repeated, covering his body once more with his own. It only took a quick guiding hand and one hard push of hips before he had re-seated himself in the other man, making Rush sob harder where he scabbered against the top of the console.

"I’m sorry about that," He added as an afterthought, but he didn’t wait for a response. Instead, he caught Rush by the chin again, covering his mouth once more, not trusting the man to manage at this angle and in this state. He fucked into him hard, his earlier intensity returning in earnest. Each thrust lifted Rush up onto the console, and he held him pinned open, spread harshly by the one leg being raised so high. He held him tight over his mouth and at the back of his knee, and Rush shook under him and around him, clenching tight against the pounding rhythm overtaking him. When Young finished, he keened again, the brittle sound stuttering against his palm in a wet series of harsh gasps.

When he’d sufficiently recovered, he turned Rush in what began as a violent turning and ended in a controlled fall that laid Rush flat on the floor, where he let himself sprawl out at all angles. Without even taking a moment to catch his breath, Young dropped down, careful to spare his bad knee, keeping most of his weight on one side. He swallowed Rush down, teasing and suckling at the half-hard flesh, reawakening the excitement that had been killed by his own over-excitement. When Rush cried out, it sounded muffled again, and he looked up, pleased to see that the other man had lifted both hands to his own mouth, keeping himself quiet without being told. He rewarded both Rush and himself with his slow, firm assault, wringing a chain of whimpers and groans, accented with hard gasps and silvery cries. The crystalline compliance satisfied Young almost as much as the man’s tight, hot passage had moments before - Rush was trying so hard to be good, be pleasing, even like this. Young rewarded him by seeing tenderly to his pleasure, letting him fuck his hips up into his mouth at his own pace, stroking a gentle hand up and down the arched back as Rush found release.

Finally pulling off, he wiped the back of one wrist across his slippery mouth, smiling down at the man still panting beneath him. Rush let his hands fall to either side of his head, staring up at Young with an expression torn between exhaustion and apprehension. Smiling, he stroked two fingers down that scruff-roughened cheek. “You did good, baby,” He murmured warmly, letting his fondness warm his voice. With one final, breathy sob, more sigh than anything else, Rush closed his eyes, going limp as the tension left his frame.

Taking a moment to set his watch, Young leaned forward and down, curling his body over the other man’s enveloping him in a warm, strong embrace. Rush rolled into his shoulder, letting him take his weight. “15 minutes, baby,” Young whispered into his hair, and Rush nodded against his chest, bringing his knee, still tangled in his much-abused jeans, to curl over Young’s hip. The muffled ‘yes, sir…’ was half-lost in the material of his shirt, but Young smiled and stroked his hair in response. “My boy,” he said, mostly to himself this time. “My good, good boy…”

~*~


	2. The Supply Closet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An AU of the Shore Leave universe, where things remain as unpleasant as possible for Rush.

On most days, what appeared to the others as a tentative truce held out in public places. In front of the others, they were civil, cordial even, on occasion. It was only when they were in the privacy of their own spaces that Young instigated sessions of their little ‘game,’ wringing submission out of Rush with a combination of applied force and tenderness.   
However, no system was perfect, and there still remained days where the animosity between them reared a spectral head, making things difficult for everyone around them. On this particular day, Rush had been snippier and mouthier than usual, leading Young to think dark thoughts and scowl in his general direction throughout most of the day. However, there came a point where both of them finished their bridge shifts and began making their ways down the mostly-deserted halls towards the mess.

When the coast was clear, Young made his move. He caught Rush up with one hand over his mouth and the other on the back of his neck. Manhandling him more with surprise than violence, he forced him backwards and against a door, elbowing the mechanism to dump them both into what was currently being used as a small supply closet, mainly for surface exploration supplies and equipment.

Rush spun on him angrily the moment he was released, but Young schooled his face into his best disciplinarian expression, crossing his arms in a posture the other man had come to recognize instantly by now. For a moment, his brow creased in confusion, though, and then anger, and then, as Young continued to look him over, into fear. “No, no, that’s not fair!” He began, but Young cut him off instantly by raising a hand as though to slap him.

"On your knees," He said quietly, lowering his arm.

Rush still stared at him, mouth open, eyebrows drawn up in an expression of surprise and apprehension. “It isn’t reasonable to-” He began again, but at the murderous expression on Young’s face, he actually drew a pace backwards, neck flushing before his face did. “No, I just… wait…”

"Don’t make me tell you again, Rush," He interrupted, still using the same soft, menacing tone.

Slowly, gracefully, the other man sank to his knees, still staring at him with a mournful expression. His hands raised up, clenching and releasing near his own throat, and he still looked afraid.

Closing the distance between them, Young unfastened his belt, pulling it free with a solid pull. Rush tensed, going stock-still so fast it left his hair trembling around his shoulders, and Young realized belatedly as his hand closed over the man’s shoulder that he thought he meant to hit him with the belt. Something clenched around his heart tightly at the realization, but he merely turned the man with the hand on the joint where neck met shoulder, before sliding his palms down both arms. Once he had both wrists, he wrapped the belt around them, binding them loosely behind him, before letting them drop back down.

Stepping around him, he unzipped his own fly, leaning against the corner created between wall and shelving. It only took one light, guiding hand to pull Rush forward, and he opened his mouth without being told. “There you are,” He murmured, stroking both thumbs across that long throat, feeling the nerves and pulse points tenderly. “There’s my good boy…”

Blushing further, Rush bowed his head, letting his hair cover his embarrassed expression. Still stroking his throat, Young lifted his chin into position and they met in the middle, him thrusting his hips forward while Rush ducked in to swallow him down. The pace he set was fast, but not unkindly so, holding him by the face as he ground into and against him.

Rush cried, but then again, Rush always did, short gasping sobs, completely inaudible but leaving an undeniable impression in the realm of the physical as the breaths ghosted across Young’s length. Every so often, a tear would slip into his mouth, making him swallow reflexively against the bitterness, and Young enjoyed that response even more. He made no effort to escape from Young or to stop him, and so Young used him with consideration, never pushing too hard or too deep.

They both froze when the door mechanism spun, loud in the intimate space they had created. Young held his face tightly, not letting Rush pull up off his length, even though the line of stress thrumming through his shoulders clearly illustrated his desire to. The door slid open finally, revealing Lt. James. She paused there, mouth opening wide, staring at the two of them in abject shock.

Unable to resist, he rocked his hips forward one last time, and the way Rush swallowed in surprise combined with the absolute eroticism of being oh-so-fucking caught ripped his orgasm from him in a violent torrent of release. Unable to move, Rush took it all in, throat working intensely as he struggled to swallow it all down enough to breathe.

When he could manage the inhalation of breath necessary to speak, his voice was still thick and choked with gritty pleasure as he growled, “Lieutenant,”

"Sorry! …Sir… I just… I’ll come back later," She said, snapping to attention, finally closing her mouth. She turned bodily away before palming the mechanism again, shutting them in darkness again that their eyes would need to readjust to.

Closing his eyes, he worked his hips a bit more, fucking his softening erection in and out of Rush’s mouth, enjoying how much wetter it had become when liberally coated like this, and unwilling to face the man’s outrage once he could speak again.

But when he let him go, Rush said nothing. He remained on his knees, shoulders slumped in what looked unquestionably like defeat, wrists still bound firmly by the belt. With his head bowed like this, his shaggy hair shielded his face from Young’s scrutiny. Finally, unable to stomach the silence anymore, Young sighed loudly and fastened himself back up into his pants. Reaching down, he stroked a hand through that soft, grey-brown hair before moving down to unwind the belt. Rush shuddered under his hands, but remained stock-still, hands still posed behind his back.

Eventually, it occurred to Young that he seemed to be waiting for permission to move. Leaning down, he gently kissed at Rush’s ear, whispering, “Very good, baby. Very, very good.”

And finally, Rush sighed, as he often did at the end of a ‘session,’ limbs going slack. He brought his wrists around and rubbed at them, but made no effort to get up from the floor. Young ruffled his hair, noting the way his shoulders tensed but his neck craned up towards the touch. It occurred to him in that moment that something in Rush had cracked at some point, and he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to attempt to mend it or keep pushing it until it shattered entirely. And Rush’s sweet, hard-won compliance wasn’t making it any easier.

He held out his hand then, and the other man took it with shaking fingers trembling against his palm. He pulled Rush to his feet and into an embrace. He kissed him, something he rarely did, unafraid of the taste of semen still clinging to Rush’s mouth. Rush melted against him, leaning his weight into the crook of his shoulder, and Young grinned into his mouth when one of Rush’s hands came up to wrap, bone-loose around his neck. He allowed it, allowed Rush to cling to him, and he held him warmly and firmly in return. He could taste the salt of the other man’s tears again, and he deepened the kiss out of satisfaction.

Nicholas Rush was utterly, unequivocally his. Shatter it is, he thought, and smiled.


End file.
